Heal
by CardioQueen
Summary: Burke and Cristina post season 3 finale. What should have happened if Shonda wasn't a beeyatch. Thanks for reading.
1. Chapter 1

Preston Burke was not a man who walked away. He fought for what he believed in. He worked hard to get what he wanted. He worked harder to keep it.

Yet now he was walking away from her. He was walking- no he was speeding away from the woman he loved so desperately. He tried to clear the ever present lump from his throat as he tried to determine exactly what it was that had made him walk away this time.

His heart ached and his eyes stung. He loved her more than medicine, more than science, more than surgery. He needed her more than he needed air.

And he walked away.

Preston Burke was not a man who walked away.

He pulled to a stop on the side of the street and leaned against the steering wheel. What if she wasn't there? What if he'd already done irreparable damage and he wouldn't be able to apologize for it? He wouldn't be able to make it up to her?

His mind was overwhelmed by thoughts of doubt and insecurity and he swore softly as he turned the car around. He wasn't going to give up.

He worked hard to get what he wanted. He worked harder to keep it.

He would work even harder to get it back.

Letting her go was hard, but he told himself it was because he loved her. In his heart he knew that letting her go was also foolish. He could've compromised. He could've listened to her when she said that she wanted the small wedding. He could've given her what she wanted instead of insisting on tradition.

It would've been a small price to pay.

The trip back to the apartment was shorter than he'd thought. It was only then that he'd realized he'd been circling the same 14 blocks, afraid to truly leave her behind. His feet felt as if they were made of lead as he made his way towards the door. He could hear her sobs floating through the hallway and it made him take pause. He leaned against the door, his hand resting on it. He wanted to reach out to her. He wanted to take away her pain.

Burke would've never imagined that walking away from her at a wedding that she didn't want would have that much of an effect on her. He didn't realize that she would be so incredibly hurt.

But why wouldn't she be?

Cristina had already gone through hell for him by hiding the tremors, by living in silence. Through all of it she stuck. She was ready to walk down the aisle for him.

His body ached to hold her, to tell her that he was sorry and that everything would be okay. He wanted so much to erase the past two hours and undo those events.

But he knew he could do neither.

His choices were made, his deeds were done.

The only thing he could do now was let her heal.


	2. Chapter 2

Cristina Yang was not a sentimental woman. After the tears dried up and after the slip and the undergarments came off she simply threw them in the trash. She changed the sheets on the bed, refusing to be one of those women who slept on the pillow of the man who left her just to be closer to him. She put his clothes left behind in a box along with his toiletries and put it in the closet.

Meredith offered her a room at her house, but Cristina refused.

She would not move out. She didn't need to. Memories meant nothing to her, and she saw no reason to go through the hassle of moving or finding a new place to live when she had one. There was nothing wrong with the apartment that she had now.

Searching through the drawers of her dresser in her bedroom she pulled out a pair of silky blue striped pajama pants. A sentimental woman would've thought twice about pulling them on. A woman who cared may have placed them back in the drawer afraid that putting them on would only add to her pain.

Not Cristina.

She pulled the pants on and let out a deep breath that she didn't realize that she'd been holding. She clenched her jaw as she glanced to his side of the bed and the realization struck her once more that he was gone. He wouldn't be sliding the pajama pants from her hips later that night, he wouldn't wash them the next time laundry needed to be done.

He was gone.

She didn't care.

Quietly, she padded across the living room to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. She struggled with the cap for a moment and finally got it off and tossed it in the trash on top of her dress.

Her eyes lingered on the dress for a moment and she had an unbidden urge to pull it from the trash and put it back on the hanger and place it back in its bag. Instead she emptied her newly opened bottle of beer on it.

She refused to be that girl.

Trying to be that girl had only gotten her into trouble. She turned her back on it and grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and moved to the couch. It seemed to swallow her up as she sunk into the cushions. She drew her knees to her chest and rested her head across her knees. Silence hung like a heavy fog in the apartment and she preferred it that way.

Meredith had wanted to stay to be there for her, to keep her company. To keep watch over her. But Cristina insisted that she didn't need somebody to be there for her. That she would be just fine on her own.

It took physically pushing Meredith out of the door before she left. Meredith reminded her that she couldn't push everybody away in a loud and high pitched whine through the door once it was closed in her face.

Obviously she didn't know her own friend because that was exactly what Cristina would do. She didn't need anybody. If this experience had taught her anything it's that attachments and relationships were trouble. She had quickly learned that sacrificing oneself for somebody else was foolish and would only end in tragedy.

She finished her beer and leaned back against the arm of the couch, her long curls draping over the side. Memories flooded through her head of recent nights spent there on the couch with Burke. Studying, making love, sitting in silence, he had asked her if she was happy and she'd told him yes.

Wasn't that enough for him? Did he want her to do a freakin' dance? Did he want her to wear a ring and shout it from the rooftops that she was getting married to _the_ Preston Burke? She struggled to push the thoughts away from her head, but they kept coming as she laid there. Tears welled in her eyes again and she choked them back.

"I'm just tired." She uttered to herself, blaming the tears on exhaustion. She wasn't upset because he was gone. She wasn't going to cry because he was gone. She refused to be sad that he walked away.

As she wept quietly on the couch, she made a silent promise that it would be the only time she would be allowed to cry herself to sleep.

After all, she was crying because she was tired and what need was there for tears after she got some rest?


	3. Chapter 3

Regret.

It's the word that plays itself over and over again in his mind. He presses the word from his lips to drown out the deafening silence in the hotel room that he's taken abode in. He's listened to his Foote collection, he's played his trumpet, he's even tried indulging in mind-numbing television.

But his room remained menacingly silent.

Cristina was never noisy. She was never too loud. It was the little things that made the silence his is temporary home more profound. It was the lack of the sound that her fingernails made as she picked at one of his selfmade labels as she flipped through a medical journal. It was the absence of the low drone of her iPod in the morning as they were getting dressed for work. It was the disappearance of the sound of a coffee maker percolating in the morning and throughout the day.

In the moments that he wasn't overwhelmed by silence he could hear her sobs. He could hear her gasp for air. These moments usually hit as he was lying in the dark desperately willing sleep to take over. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was the image of her clawing at her wedding dress, tears marring her makeup. All he could see was her alone in their apartment, swallowed up by emotions that would take her months to sort out.

At times, he selflessly hoped that she would hate him. He hoped that she would gather her things and leave the apartment and their memories behind in disugst. He wanted her to pass off their relationship as a temporary lapse in judgement or a mistake to never be made again.

Most of the time, he is selfish. His regrets don't include buying her coffee, sleeping with her, getting her pregnant or falling in love with her. As a matter of fact, he only had one regret when it comes to Cristina Yang.

His regret was letting her go.

His regret was not letting her walk down the aisle despite the fact that he thought he knew what was best for her. His regret was not softly uttering his vows to her. His regret was not clasping her hands tightly while she stammered through expressions of affection she no doubt borrowed from another source. 

Sometimes he would fantasize about how they will come back together. He would allow himself to be deluded with the idea that she'll actually give him another chance. He would even let himself take stock in the fact that she will be happy someday and that it will be with him.

But then he would reach over to her side of the bed and it would be cold. He would fold the laundry and take pause when it hit him that once again hers was missing. He would shower quickly to save the hot water for a woman who was no longer there. He would pour a second cup of coffee and realize for the eighth time since he's woke up that morning that she's gone.

And it's always at those times that he had to pause. It's at that point that he realizes that she won't be coming back. It is in those moments of better and cruel lucidity that he regrets setting her free.

Preston Burke was no longer a man of pride. He was no longer a world renowned surgeon. He was no longer a heart man.

No.

Now Preston Burke was a shadow of a man. A vessel of self-loathing, selfishness and regret.


	4. Chapter 4

Work is always difficult.

Eyes follow her throughout the unit as she rounds on her patients throughout the morning. She's heard the new interns mingle her name with his and twist the facts. She quickly learned upon her return to work that the passionate and powerful Dr. Preston Burke did not walk out on her.

No, instead, the cold and heartless Dr. Yang didn't show up to the chapel. Or was it that she ran down the aisle before he could utter his legendary vows? Or was it that she listened to said vows unaffected and then told him that she didn't love him and that the wedding was one big mistake.

Whatever the rumor, she continued to pretend not to care.

She couldn't care. Not when she felt all eyes on her.

Interns looked at her in fear and awe. Nurses looked at her in disgust. Her colleagues looked at her in pity.

For fleeting moments she longs for the day where all eyes were on her and Burke. She longs for the time when they were met with puzzled and jealous glances as they made their exit from the hospital, hands gently brushing and their bodies millimeters apart.

Emphasis on fleeting moments.

Her thoughts usually turn bitter quickly. Her emotions immediately sour as soon as she realizes that his name as once again crossed her mind. She wants to hate him. She has fought to hate him, but it only makes her heart ache.

The first time the words hate and Burke escaped her lips in the same sentence it was the night of their almost wedding. She cooked on the words with a mixture of tequila and tears and she resolved to try her hardest to believe them.

It wasn't that he loved her and left her. It wasn't that he shattered her walls, made her vulnerable and then exposed that vulnerability to the world.

It was the fact that he had become her one and only failure.

He was an imperfection marring her perfect record. He was her weak spot. Her Achilles' Heel.

Despite his absence, his presence lingered in her life. Their apartment was clean and spotless, though she rationalized that it was because she was never home. She played Eugene Foote CDs that she purchased on impulse and rationalized that it was because she liked the music. She jogged some mornings and rationalized that it was because she needed to take care of herself.

After all, she was all she had left.

And based off of that rationalization, she taught herself to cook. She decided that if Izzie could do it, then she could do it better. And why shouldn't she? It's just another skill for her to master.

The first time she successfully prepared her own Moo Goo Gai Pan she made it a special occasion. She sat the table, plated her accomplishment with pride and turned on some soft jazz music.

However, she never ate it. Instead, she stood in the middle of her living room frozen in abject horror as she took notice that she'd set the table for two.

It had been weeks.

It had been weeks and she was used to being alone. Try as she might, she couldn't rationalize why she had set the table for two. There was no rhyme, reason or rationale. There was no logic.

That was the second time that she uttered his name mingled with the word hate.

Hours later she pulled herself from the couch. The room spun around her in an alcohol induced dance and she stumbled to the table to clean up dinner. Frigid noodles and cold chicken were scraped into the trash untouched as feelings and emotions were bottled and buried.

Except for hatred.

Hatred for the man who should've been eating dinner with her. Hatred for the man who should've pulled the bottle of vodka from her hands before she had too much.

She would continue her fight to hate Preston Burke.

The perfect man who was her imperfection.


	5. Chapter 5

Burke's eyes traced up and down the board in disbelief. The last time he had seen their names together was on their wedding invitations. He knew that it was inevitable, her being assigned to one of his surgeries.

He just didn't think it would be so soon.

It didn't mean that he wouldn't fight it. It didn't mean that he wasn't going to try to spare them both the pain of having to work together. However, his argument with the chief only confused him. The Chief didn't assign Yang to his surgeries, or so he said. Burke couldn't help but chuckle lightly when Webber quipped that he was not ready to invoke the wrath of Dr. Yang.

The day wore on and he grew more anxious. As the time of the procedure grew closer he felt like the walls of the hospital were closing in on him. He sat behind the nurses' station nervously scanning preoperative reports. He could almost hear her voice as he read through the words, though her voice had drastically faded in his mind.

However the sound of her cries that day still lingered, no matter how hard he tried to forget it.

His breath hitched in his throat as he glanced up to see her standing in front of him. Her arms were stiff and straight at her side, her body tense. She was noticeably thinner and her eyes dulled. Her expression was placid and he instantaneously knew that it betrayed the storm that lie within her.

He breathed her name, an unintentional prelude to an apology for the unexpected assignment, but she quickly cut him off.

"Dr. Yang." She corrected him evenly, "I put my name on the board. It's a cardiac autotransplantation. The last time that the hospital saw a case like this I was too busy covering up your tremors to learn anything, Dr. Burke."

There were a million things that he'd wanted to say, but her words only caused him to take pause. Anger combined itself with guilt, regret, sadness and unrequited love to create a maelstrom of unexpected insecurities. As he realized that all words were lost he merely extended the chart and she was gone.

It was a bold move on her part, putting her name on the board. It was as bold of a move as when she came into the on call room, locked the door and thanked him for the coffee.

With that thought, he felt warmth growing in his soul. The lingering spark of hope that he'd had within him then ignited the tiniest of flames.

The surgery lingered in the back of his mind for the rest of the afternoon. His step was lighter and his expression a bit brighter as he rounded on his patients. He knew that this surgery could be the stepping stone to rebuilding what they had lost.

No- it was their step to building something better than what they had before.

He bargained with himself that if he had another chance that he'd do so many things differently. He swore to listen to her. He promised to himself that he'd work to put her desires before his own. He vowed that they would learn the art of compromise.

The surgery came and went quickly. Both were amazed at how well they worked together despite the circumstances. Their exchanges throughout the procedure were kept to a minimum, and were pleasant and professional. He smiled lightly at the way her eyes involuntarily flickered when he offered to let her attach the intraspetal graft.

When all was said and done they had repaired a broken heart together. Now it was time to start mending their hearts. Burke was not foolish enough to believe that it would be as seamless as their surgery, but he had hopes that it wouldn't be incredibly painful either.

They stood side by side after the surgery, scrubbing away particles of synthetic nitrile, powder and beaded sweat from their hands. He glanced over her, his eyes trailing up and down her body and he felt himself fighting to breathe.

"It was a good surgery." She finally spoke, her tone a bit higher than she had intended for it to be.

"It was. You were excellent, Dr. Yang." He nodded softly in agreement.

She glanced up at him with narrowed eyes, "That wasn't an invitation to speak to me."

He raised his eyebrows, once again caught off guard by her words. "I wasn't aware that one required an invitation to speak to you." Silently he was thankful that he was able to formulate a reply this time instead of being left speechless.

Cristina dropped her scrub brush into the trash and violently pulled paper towels from the silver container in front of him. "Look, I wish I could say that I only scrubbed in for the humpty-dumpty, but there's more to it than that."

He blotted the moisture from his skin, listening quietly to her words. He felt the small flame of hope inside of him quickly spreading into a wildfire, but bit back comments. He leveled his gaze on her. He would allow her to speak without speaking.

He was going to listen to what she wanted. He was going to honor what she desired. This was his opportunity and he was not going to waste it.

She was surprised when he remained silent and it took her a moment to regain her bearings. "I was hoping…" She began then paused to press her lips together. Why the hell did this have to be so hard? "I need you to come by the apartment so that we can sort things out."

He nodded gently in agreement as he took in her words. He felt his heart rate increase and his throat constrict. They were going to try again. "There is a great deal for us to discuss." He added softly.

Her face soured, "There really isn't."

Silence lingered between them for a moment before a mixture of shock amusement and anger painted itself across her expression. "Wait…you think that I want to talk about what happened, don't you? You think that I want you to come over so that we can sort through the pieces of our relationship that you broke?"

Burke clenched his jaw. "What else is there to sort out?" He stammered over his words.

"The lease. On my apartment. That still has your name on it." Her sentences were short and bitter, "I need you to sign it over to me so I can renew it….you know what? You're unbelievable."

"Cristina…"

"If you think for a moment that we have anything to talk about, if you think for a moment that there's an ounce of hope for reconciliation, you're so wrong."

"You're still in the apartment." He persisted, "That must mean something."

"Yeah. It means I have a place to live. It's an apartment, Burke. Four walls with a bed and a coffee maker, the _only_ two things I need in my life." She muttered turning to walk out the door.

He reached out without hesitation and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back around to face him. "You have to let me say my peace." He was determined. She had to know why he did what he did.

She had to know that he still loved her.

Cristina pulled away from him, anger burning in her eyes. "No, I don't. You did this, Burke. You broke this. I was in it. I was sticking." She sputtered, "I refuse to let you play the role of the victim. The hospital already does it enough for you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He snapped at her.

"You can't tell me that you haven't heard the rumors, Burke. The rumors that you read me your heart stopping, knee weakening vows and I left you standing at the altar?" She stopped shaking her head. She didn't realize how much that had bothered her until now

Or maybe she didn't want to realize how much it bothered her.

"Cristina, I'm sorry, I didn't realize…"

"You know what? It doesn't matter. If you loved me you would've come back the night you left. If you loved me you would've tried to fix this months ago." She stormed from the scrub room and he pushed after her.

All eyes were on them. He knew what he had to do if he was going to try to make things right.

If he was going to take away her pain.

"I'm sorry." He called after her, his voice loud enough for everybody to hear. "I'm sorry I left you on our wedding day."

Cristina froze in her steps. Slowly she spun on her heel to face him with pain showing in her eyes. Her mouth gaped open momentarily and then she forced her jaw shut. She felt herself struggle to breathe. Why the hell was he doing this? Why now? Finally she found the strength to turn away from him and she continued down the hall amidst a new batch of rumors sparking around them.

He watched with a lump growing in his throat as she walked away. He was at an impasse. He knew that there could be hope. He knew that if he fought hard enough, if he fought long enough that she would give into him. That she would give him a second chance.

But he'd made promises to himself.

He had promised to himself that he would honor her needs and her wants before his own. And as badly as he wanted her, he wasn't sure that she wanted or needed him.


	6. Chapter 6

Cristina glanced around at her pristine apartment and wondered for a moment if she should throw some stuff around it. Burke would be there at any moment to sign the lease over to her and she didn't want him believing that she missed him.

Her eyes trailed over the floor to the shelves where she had her own growing collection of jazz CD's and Eugene Foote and she panicked. She quickly padded across the floor and gathered them up in her arms, using her chin to stabilize them and she made way into the bedroom to drop them on the bed. She heard a knock at the door and she pulled the bedroom door shut hard. "Give me a minute." She called out flatly at the door.

She wasn't ready for this. Absently, she ran her hand through her hair and quickly pulled it away in disgust. She could care less what he thought about her appearance. The door felt heavier than normal as she pulled it open to see him and she swallowed hard.

"Come in." She managed to choke out from her constricted airway.

"Thank you." He uttered softly and glanced around the apartment. "It's clean."

"Congratulations, you're not blind." She muttered, looking away from him. She pulled a thick stack of paper from a drawer under the kitchen counter. "The places that you need to sign have the little flag things on them. There are eight different places that require your signature or initials."

He took the paper and glanced down at it with sadness tugging at his heart. He felt like he was signing divorce papers. "Do you have a pen?"

She gave him a pen and brushed past him, "I have a box of your things in the bedroom if you would please take them with you. I'm tired of looking at them." Cristina pushed open the door to the bedroom to retrieve the box.

Burke set the papers down and followed her into the bedroom, "I can get it, Cristina."

Cristina whipped around, standing in front of him. She didn't want him to see her newfound music collection that she'd so carelessly left out on the bed. "Get out of my bedroom."

It was too late.

His eyes softened as he took note of the CD's, "Those aren't mine." His eyes trailed further up the bed to a hint of green sticking out from underneath one of the pillows. He immediately recognized it as his Tulane shirt.

"No, I'm pretty sure that you took yours with you when you left me." She laced her words with bitterness as she struggled to pick up the heavy box and she finally gave up on it. "Get your damn stuff and get out of my bedroom."

He stooped over and easily lifted the box and carried it into the living room to set it on the counter. It was various unimportant things- clothes, papers, some medical journals; all things that he could live without. His eyes fell on the engagement ring that'd given her, nested in his belongings and he let out a sigh as he pulled it out. He extended it to her. "This is yours."

"I don't want that. I didn't want it when you gave it to me." She pushed the papers in front of him. "Sign these and go. It's not a request."

"I'll sign them on one condition." He shot back at her with an even tone. He leveled his gaze on hers, "Answer me one question and I'll sign them and this will be done for good."

"It's already done for good, Burke. You're the one holding onto it." She sighed, shaking her head. "Just sign the papers."

"You're holding onto it. The CD's Cristina? My Tulane shirt tucked under your pillow? You miss this too."

Cristina walked away from him and pulled the t-shirt from under the pillow. She returned to the counter and dropped it into his box, "I don't miss anything. And so what about the CD's? They are sold to the general public, y'know."

"You never seemed to like any of my music when I played it."

"Just sign the papers, Burke." She shoved the pen into his hand and his fingers curled around hers. She pulled her hand back, "Stop it."

"Answer my question."

"You didn't ask me a question." She snapped at him, her frustration coming to a head.

He tried to focus on anything but the intensity burning in her eyes. He had to find the right words if this question was going to help put them back together- if this question was going to heal their broken hearts. "Do you still love me?" He asked softly.

It wasn't the question that he'd originally planned on asking her, but he had to know. He had to know if they were irreparable at his own hands.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" She scoffed, "You want to know if I love you after you walked away from me on our wedding day?"

"I did that because I love you, Cristina." He emphasized his words evenly. "I loved you then and I loved you now. Nothing will ever change that. I knew that the wedding was not what you wanted. I walked away because I love _you._"

"If you love- if you ever loved me, you wouldn't have left me standing there on the wedding day that you pushed so hard for. You wouldn't have come to our apartment and taken everything that ever mattered to you and left me behind. If you loved me, you wouldn't have walked away. You would've given me a chance to have what I wanted. But no, you were sure that you were right. You were sure that if you let me go that you were doing the right thing. Did you ask me, Burke? Did you give _me_ a choice?"

Burke breathed her name, the pain apparent in his eyes. Perhaps he wasn't as ready has he thought he was to discuss this. "I'm sorry." He finally uttered. "I'm sorry that I didn't give you a choice."

"What does it matter if you gave me a choice anyway? It's not like you would've listened. I told you what I wanted, and you completely ignored it. You thought I was kidding. You thought what I wanted was a joke." She continued angrily. Cristina had needed to do this. She had needed to get these things off of her chest so she could get over him. So she could move past him. So she could move on with her life.

He didn't know what to say. He had expected her to be angry about what happened- he had expected her sadness to morph into rage. He was taken aback as the idea drifted into the forefront of his consciousness that she may actually hate him. He wasn't sure how to respond to her. His eyes locked with hers and he could no longer see the love that once made its abode in her perfect eyes.

Now there was only pain.

"Just walk away, Burke. Walk away like you did on our wedding day." She muttered.

He remained still, her words slicing through him like a scalpel. It was all he could do to focus on breathing while took in her words. Walking away was not an option. If anything, he wanted to let her finish getting it out. He wanted her to heal, even if her healing came at his expense. He would make her better if it was the last thing that he did for them.

Cristina felt her airway constrict as he stood there in front of her, seemingly steeled against her words. He wasn't speaking, he wasn't walking away and she hated him for it. No matter what she said or did she couldn't hurt him as badly as he hurt her. She just wanted him to hurt to. She wanted to see him struggle for air and fight for a will to carry on as she had. Finally with the last ounce of energy she had left in her body she narrowed her eyes, "Did you forget how to walk away? Let me give you a reminder." In a series of angry and jerky movements, she spun on her heel to walk away from him and towards the front door. She jerked it open, "Get out. Get out of my apartment. Get out of my life."

His chest was tight as he nodded softly and swept past her. He kept his eyes fixed on her. She was wounded, she was hurting. He resisted the urge in his body as every nerve cell fired off telling him to pull her into his arms. It was reflex for him to hold her. It was reflex for him to brush his lips over her forehead and hug her tightly. It was reflex for him to use the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears welling at the corners of her eyes.

And he had to deny those reflexes.

She maintained her composure until he disappeared from her line of vision and she softly closed the door. Her eyes trailed over the apartment to her counter and her vision was instantly blurred with tears when she saw that he'd left his belongings and the unsigned lease on the counter.

This was too much for her to handle.

She shoved the door open to their bedroom and slammed it shut behind her. She wanted to close herself off from the world. She felt her knees giving out on her and she couldn't find the strength to cross the bedroom to their bed.

Her bed. It was her bed. "Dammit." She muttered out loud. "Dammit, dammit, dammit." She repeated the words over and over again cursing herself and cursing him.

She leaned against the wall, choking back emotion. She struggled for air, struggled to breathe as her knees finally gave out on her. As she slid to the floor, the first tear slid down her face unbidden and she quickly wiped it away.

She just wanted the hurt to go away. She wanted it all to go away. The anger, the tears, the attachments, the love. She wanted it to disappear. She wanted her edge back.

She wanted to feel like Cristina again.

Tears fell harder as she realized that she'd never feel like herself without him in her life.


	7. Chapter 7

Burke sat in his car outside the apartment complex. His fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel as he pondered the possibilities. He could see their bedroom light on. He could hear her sobs screaming through mind. He could almost feel her tears drenching his shirt.

He was supposed to be holding her. He was supposed to be taking away her pain. She was supposed to be healing. They were supposed to be healing.

Throwing the door open to his car he had made his decision. He would not let her go. He would hold onto her with every ounce of strength that he had. He would make it right. He would listen to what it was that she needed. He would put her needs before his own.

His feet carried him quickly through the stairwell to the door and he pulled his key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. He let out a breath that he didn't realize that he was holding before pushing the door open.

Her cries floated gently through the stale air of their apartment and he saw the bedroom door closed. Her silhouette was outlined through the door and he carefully pushed it open with trembling hands. He felt ill prepared to see the damage that he had caused.

Cristina jerked away from the door with a start. She didn't know who was invading her apartment and she immediately went on the defensive. She was on her swiftly on her feet, her hands flying wildly towards her attacker. Her hands connected with a body and she focused on the invader for the first time.

Even after she realized it was Burke she continued to helplessly beat at his chest with her fists balled up tightly. "Get out." She choked, "Just sign the damn papers and get out."

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "Cristina." He spoke her name evenly with conviction as she struggled against him.

She was in his arms. He was there and he was holding her and he was warm and safe. And oh, it felt so good just to be in his embrace. She let go of herself for only a moment before she continued her struggle against him, "Let me go." She uttered, trying to pull away from him.

"Stop fighting me." He pulled her tighter against his body until he felt her stop struggling. She melted against him and his own breath hitched in his throat. He felt her tears soaking through his shirt and her body shaking against his and it was all he could do to maintain his composure. He would not fall apart, not right now.

This was about her.

Time seemed to come to a standstill as she cried in his arms. Her tears were never ending and her pain heavy on her soul. They sat on the cold floor in their bedroom as she cried in his arms. He rocked gently, brushing kisses against her forehead. He uttered apologies and 'I love yous' over and over again in a hushed voice against her curls.

She held tightly to his shirt, the material balled in her fist. She struggled to fight the notion that no matter how much she tried to hate him that this was where she belonged. Every time he whispered I love you, she felt a little another piece of her being come back together. She cried harder when she admitted to herself that she loved him too.

Long after he had arrived and as the sun began to rise she had fallen asleep in his arms. Carefully and softly he scooped her up and laid her on the bed. She stirred only slightly. Her body was far too exhausted from the catharsis of her tears to let her awaken from her deep sleep.

He picked up the CDs from the bed and took them to the shelf and arranged them to where they should be. As he crossed back towards the bedroom, his eyes fell on the box that sat on the counter and the lease waiting to be signed.

Scenarios played out through his mind as his eyes traced between her sleeping form on the bed and the papers that would forever remove his name from their apartment. The papers that would permanently remove him from her life.

She had made clear what she wanted he had promised himself to put her desires first.

Burke picked up the pen and signed his name to the eight different flagged lines. Each time he signed he felt another piece of his resolve breaking. By the time he reached the final signature his eyes were wet and he had to pull his glasses from his face to dry them.

After just a few seconds, he cleared his throat and slid his glasses back on. Quietly he made his way into the bedroom and bent to kiss her on the forehead softly one last time. "I love you, Cristina." He whispered softly with a strained voice.

With a heavy heart he picked his box up off the counter and the engagement ring that he'd left lying there the night before and left her apartment. No matter how much sadness he felt, he knew that he was honoring her wishes.

In one final act, he had kept the promise to himself to put her needs before his own.


	8. Chapter 8

She was free again.

The lease was signed and sitting on her kitchen counter. The last of his belongings were gone from the apartment. He was gone. She could move on with her life. She could work long hours; she could forego coming home for days at a time just to ensure she got the best surgeries. She could eat vending machine food and live off of coffee and beer and nobody would say anything to her.

She could have her edge back.

The irony of it all was that she didn't want it anymore. She didn't want to eat junk food, she didn't want to go without sleep, and she didn't want to be _just_ a surgeon.

She wanted him, too.

He had held her throughout the night. He had taken away her pain like no bottle of vodka could. His whispered 'I love yous' were still fresh in her memory. She remembered feeling exactly three tears drop into her hair. She couldn't decide what was worse- the hurt that he'd caused her or knowing that he was hurting as much as she was. She didn't want to hurt anymore and she didn't want him to hurt anymore.

She also knew that there was only one way for their pain to fade.

Cristina had found herself at an impossible impasse. She knew now that she wanted him; she knew that nobody or nothing would ever be able to fill the void that he'd left inside of her. She also knew that Cristina Yang did not chase. She did not beg. She did not self-disclose. Not for anybody.

_His_ Cristina was stubborn, one of-a-kind and ambivalent.

She drew her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly. There were so many questions in her mind. What if they did get back together? Where would that leave them? Where would they start? Would they start at the beginning?

Cristina didn't want to start over. She actually_ wanted_ more. She wanted to go to bed with him and feel his strong arms draped comfortably over her waist. He wanted her to pull her from a deep slumber with a cup of fresh coffee. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She wanted him there while she was dressing for work, distracting her with his wandering hands.

It was no longer the future together that scared her; it was a future without him.

She knew that it would take work. It wouldn't be a simple conversation and they'd be able to move forward. It would be hours of yelling and cursing and perhaps tears unshed.

Cristina was still angry with him for ignoring her wishes and ideas of the wedding, but she couldn't help but be angry with herself as well. She didn't fight for what she wanted. She simply conceded. She faded in an effort to make him happy.

The end was as much her fault as it was his.

Her eyes trailed over to the clock. She only had about an hour before for he'd retreat from wherever it was that he was staying to the hospital. It was the only place that he would be able to think. She pulled herself from the couch and pulled on clothes as quickly as she could.

She didn't know what she would say. She didn't know how she could convince him that she was _his_ Cristina, but she would find away.

She didn't want to spend another day without him.


	9. Chapter 9

Burke glanced down at the box of his belongings that he'd gathered on his desk and let out a long sigh. Webber hadn't accepted his resignation as well as he'd hoped that he would. He felt like his own father was disappointed in him from running away from him problems.

The truth was that he wasn't running away from his problems. He was trying to prevent hers.

He thought about the previous night and how she seemed to cry harder each time he whispered I love you and he realized that he was only hurting her. He couldn't let her go, though. He had to see her through her tears before he would leave her alone.

He wasn't going to leave her hurting again.

There were many places he could go that he'd be able to pick up a career quickly. It would only be a couple of weeks before he could get his medical license transferred. He thought of hospitals that would probably hire him as chief of surgery. He wanted the hours. He wanted to drown himself in paperwork and other people's issues so that he would not have to face his own.

Going home was not an option. The once close relationship he held with his mama had dissipated a bit in the shadows of disappointment and avoidance.

No, he would start a life someplace new. He would start a life where he knew nobody. This time he would not form attachments. There would be nobody to impress, because he would already have a position of power. There would be no relationships to destroy, no obligations to disappoint.

Preston Burke would merely exist.

He gathered the box into his arms and pressed on through the halls, avoiding curious stares and tuning out hushed assumptions as he made his way through the front doors of the hospital. There was a feeling tugging at his soul, something whispering to him to stay for just a few moments longer- he brushed it off as lingering feelings for her that would eventually fade.

Rather, he hoped that they would eventually fade.

He settled the box into the back seat of his car and walked slowly to the driver's side of the car. He did not turn and look back at the hospital before sinking into his seat behind the wheel. He did not turn his eyes up to observe the concrete and glass edifice before pulling away.

Seattle Grace meant so much to him at one time. It was a venue for him to prove himself. It was a container holding the things most precious to him- a coffee cart where he bought her coffee, the call room where they came together, the office where he realized that there were challenges to dating an intern, the hospital bed where he lay when he first realized that she loved him.

Now it was just a building, it was just another hospital. Another place where people die and hopes die with them.

Burke felt like a fool. He was not used to the amount of self-loathing and pity he'd felt for the first few weeks and made a solemn vow to himself that the second he began his new life that he'd snap out of it. He blamed it on the lingering effects of being in the same city as her.

She had already moved on from him, and now it was time for him to move on as well.


	10. Chapter 10

She was looking for him.

The hospital never seemed so full to her before. Everybody that she didn't want to see seemed to linger at every corner. There were more nurses, more techs, more people to block her path from finding him. After what seemed like an eternity of searching the halls for him she hesitantly moved towards the Chief's office.

Cristina knew that he would hold the information she needed. She knew that Webber could tell her exactly what she wanted to her. In the same instance, she didn't want the entire hospital to know that she was seeking him out. She didn't want the hospital to know that she still had a weakness for Preston Burke.

She paced nervously in the hall for a moment before letting out a deep exhale and walking away from the Chief's office. She would be able to find him later and speak to him in private, away from prying eyes.

Throughout the day her eyes darted nervously between the nurses' station, the ORs and the scrub rooms passively looking for him. She passed his office several times, glancing inside only to find it darkened. She searched him out in the call rooms. Towards the end of the day she found herself getting desperate, seeking him out in the most unlikely of places: the medical floors where he could be doing a consult, the pit where he could be torturing new interns, at one point she'd decided to check the supply closet just in case.

Hours later, she found herself standing at the Chief's door. Her resolve had broken and the only thing that mattered to her now was finding him. As hard as she tried, she could no longer deny her vulnerability and she no longer wanted to.

All that she wanted was him.

Cristina pushed the door open to find Webber behind his desk, massing his temples. He looked worn and tired, his shoulders hunched from the unseen amount of stress weighing on them. His eyes rose slowly to meet hers and she shuddered at the pity they contained.

It was then that she knew.

"He's gone." She spoke, her voice much stronger than she'd expected.

Webber nodded, "He turned in a letter of resignation early this morning effective immediately."

Cristina felt her throat tighten. Words and questions formed lumps in her throat that she couldn't force past her lips without an unwanted display of emotion to accompany them. She choked the words back long enough to finally utter a soft, "Where?"

"I don't know, Dr. Yang. He said he would contact me at a later date with forwarding information." Webber stood from behind his desk and walked towards the young resident slowly. He remembered the first time that he'd interviewed her in that moment. She was like steel- cold, impenetrable, steady. She would make an excellent surgeon.

The Cristina Yang he interviewed was a far cry from the woman standing in front of him now.

"You must have a phone number." She protested, trying her hardest to mask the pleading tone in her voice.

Webber sighed as he laid his hand across her shoulder, "I'm sorry, doctor."

Cristina pulled away from him, "Thank you, Dr. Webber." She would not allow herself to remain in his pitiful gaze any longer.

The walk from his office was a painful one. She wondered if she had asked him earlier in the day if she would've been able to catch Burke before he left. She wondered if he would've been on his way in as she was questioning Webber about his whereabouts. Continually, she mentally kicked herself over and over again for not speaking with Webber earlier in the day.

She began to mull over the possibilities that lay before her. Logically, she knew that she could move on, that she could continue her life without him. The apartment would be in her name, he would be out of the hospital, permanently removed from her life. Cristina knew that she'd mastered the art of denial enough to move on without him.

She also knew now beyond a doubt that she didn't want to move on. Now she knew that he was what she wanted. Now she could tell him that she wanted to try again and know for sure that it was what she wanted and that it wasn't because he was trying to make him happy.

Only now?

Now he was gone and she couldn't tell him.


	11. Chapter 11

A fresh start.

Everybody wanted one- a new beginning, a 'do-over'. People literally prayed to have a new hand dealt to them.

Burke's new hand lay before him. New opportunities, new hospitals with better salary deals, new job offers and prestigious job titles- his new hand burgeoned over the edges of the diminutive desk that had become his playing field. He had what everybody wanted.

All he had to do was choose a card.

The bid for Preston Burke had become a high stakes bidding war. He knew in the end that no matter the outcome, he'd still be the one holding all the chips. His name could put an obscure hospital on the map. His refusal of an offer could cause undue questions aimed at the hospital's worth. He had obscene offers from many hospitals that only got higher as he took more hospitals into consideration.

Indeed, his life and career had become a game. To the unseeing eye, to the unknowing person, it was a game of no limit's Texas Hold 'Em.

To Burke it felt like Russian roulette.

Spin the barrel, cock the gun and pull the trigger. In a matter of seconds your life c an end or you can live to see another round.

He wanted to find his bullet. He wanted to put an end to the miserable shadow of a man that he was now and start over.

Returning his attention to the contracts, he picked one up.

California was out of the question. Though Cristina never reminded him of a California native, it was still a reminder.

Reminders were unacceptable. Reminders were just another round in his game.

Burke drew a long sip of scotch from his glass. He closed his hand around the edge of the lucrative contract and dropped it into the trashcan atop a quickly growing pile.

As he began to look over another contract, his cell phone rang breaking his concentration. Without glancing at the caller ID, he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear. He greeted his caller with an even and confident tone.

Nobody would know that he was broken.

He didn't talk to friends or family members anymore, only hospitals competing for him. He jotted down another offer from a hospital in Connecticut and hung up the phone.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair and turned his eyes upward to the ceiling. He wondered errantly for a moment what he'd be doing if he hadn't walked away from her. He knew that he shouldn't be pondering such things- he had contracts to look through.

He had to find a way to forget her. It wasn't that he wanted to forget her, forget about what they had. He wanted to hold onto her and the memories that they had together. He wanted to stay in Seattle and be close to her, to make sure she was okay.

But if he would ever heal, he needed to let her go.

He needed to forget her.


	12. Chapter 12

Cristina lay in the middle of her bed, staring at the ceiling. She told herself that if she lay in the middle that it didn't seem as empty. She told herself that if she laid in the middle of the bed that she wouldn't be as pathetic as if she were lying on his side alone.

"You realize that you have to get up sometime today, right?" Meredith mumbled from Cristina's side of the bed.

"It's my day off. I don't have to move." Cristina muttered, arching her back as she stretched, "And I don't intend to."

"So what? You're going to lay there and be jaded all day. That's something that I'm supposed to do, and then you do the thing where you come in and kick my ass out of bed." Meredith smirked, "We can't reverse roles. I don't make a very good Cristina."

"Neither do I."

"What?"

Cristina flopped over onto her stomach and buried her face into a pillow, "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

Meredith glanced over at her, "Where did he go?"

"I don't know. Webber said that he's gotten calls at the hospital from a lot of different hospitals. I think he's probably still here, trying to figure out where he's going." She speculated softly, "Trying to figure out where he's going to start his life over."

"He's not trying to start his life over, Cristina…he's just….taking a break."

"Right. He's taking a break. That's why he quit his job at the hospital. That's why other hospitals are calling. He's going to go on vacation at Harvard med for a couple of weeks and then he's coming right back." Cristina muttered. "Sorry." She added softly.

"It's fine…" Meredith stretched her arms over her head and turned her head towards Cristina.

"You're staring at me." Cristina mumbled into the pillow.

"Have you thought about just calling him? Telling him that you want to talk? Talking to him can't hurt…"

"And what the hell am I supposed to say? 'Oh, I think that we should do this again.' It's not that easy. It can't be that easy." Cristina buried her face farther into the pillow, feeling her frustration grow to a head.

"Is there a rule that says it has to be complicated?" Meredith smirked.

"But—" Cristina started, turning up to face her friend.

"But nothing." Meredith interrupted her, "Maybe it doesn't have to be complicated. Maybe all it would take is you calling and saying, 'Hey, Burke. I think we should talk. Because I think that we should try again. Because I love you or whatever. So come home.' Maybe it can be that easy, but you're just too damn stubborn to do it."

"Meredith…"

"No. Get your ass out of the bed, get your phone and call him now." Meredith sat up straight in the bed, jerking her finger towards the kitchen counter where Cristina's cell phone lay.

A faint smile played against Cristina's lips, "Do I have to do the thing where I act all emotional like you?"

"Shut up and get your phone."

"Oh no. I'm not calling him in front of you. What I have to say to him is none of your business." Cristina sat on the edge of the bed and looked towards her cell phone as if it were a death sentence.

"You can call him in front of me. All you have to do is tell him to come over. When he gets here, I'll leave." Meredith pushed her from the edge of the bed.

Cristina landed on her butt hard against the floor. She turned around to face her with a scowl, "You're going to hold me hostage in my own apartment?"

"Until he gets here." Meredith assured her. "Now go get the damn phone."

With a heavy sigh, Cristina pulled herself from the floor. Her feet were reluctant to move across the room towards her phone and it took her much longer than it normally should for her to collect it. She closed her hand around the phone and glanced at Meredith. "It can't be that easy."

"I guess you'll find out." Meredith answered her in an even tone.

Slowly, she punched in the numbers to Burke's cell phone and pressed it to her ear. She felt another knot form in her stomach with each unanswered ring. He didn't want to talk to her. There was nothing simple about this.

Before she could pull the phone away from her ear to hang up, his voice came through the other end. It was steady and confident.

He didn't sound like he was broken.

"Burke." She spoke softly.

She could feel him freeze on the other side of the phone and she chose to continue before he could say anything, "I need you to come by the apartment. You forgot something."

"Cristina…" He started, sounding slightly annoyed with the prospect of returning to their apartment.

"Burke? I can't hear you." She pulled the phone away from her ear and lowered her voice.

She heard him calling her name through crystal clear reception, but she continued her act. "Burke, are you there? Listen…if you can hear me, just come by around six." Snapping her phone closed, she turned to face Meredith.

"You're horrible." Meredith shook her head in disappointment.

"What? I lost reception."

"In the middle of downtown Seattle?"

Cristina stuffed her phone into her pocket, "I have a crappy carrier. Whatever." Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned to look at the living room. "What do I say to him when he gets here?"

Meredith's heart ached for her best friend. She couldn't imagine what there was to say, she only knew that they needed to talk. "I can be Burke for you. You can practice on me."

"That sounds strangely desperate. And creepy." Cristina answered pointedly.

"I was just trying to help."

"Well don't, please. I'll figure it out. Just not right now."

Meredith nodded gently, "Okay. You can figure it out later."


	13. Chapter 13

Burke stood in the hallway, in front of the door to the apartment that used to be theirs. His gaze remained fixated on the gold toned number eight centered on the door. Thoughts raced through his mind as to how he was supposed to forget her when he found himself standing here again.

He never thought he'd find himself at a point where he didn't want to see her.

Knocking at the door, he let out a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He would be cold, decisive and quick. Whatever it was that she needed him to get would be collected and he would be gone within a matter of moments. He would not make small talk; he would not make eye contact.

He would ignore the dull ache that had taken residence in his heart.

Meredith pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway with a forced smile on her face. "Hi."

"Hello." His voice was already wavering and he wasn't even facing Cristina. "Is there—"

"You will listen to her and not speak. You will not try to touch her or hug her or do that thing you do that makes her stop using her intelligence or whatever. It's her turn. Got it?" Meredith rambled off at him, "And that's not a request."

Dumbfounded was the only word that could explain the look he leveled on her, "What is going on?"

"Just do what I said and go in there." Meredith sighed and stepped out of the way, "Listen to her!" She hissed after him before pulling the door shut.

She considered for a moment standing at the door to listen. She wanted to witness the argument, to be able to step in for her friend and defend her if she needed it. She also knew that Cristina was strong enough to fight her own battles. With a heavy sigh she stepped away from the door, silently hoping that it would all work out for Cristina.

Even though she wouldn't admit it, Meredith believed in meant-to-be and Meredith believed that Cristina and Burke were meant to have their fairy tale.

Burke stood just inside the door of the apartment. It was still clean and quiet. The air was still stagnant and he felt as if he were going to choke on it. His eyes traced her petite frame pacing back and forth by the very counter where she'd said yes to him. He opened his mouth to utter her name but paused when she held up her hand.

"She gave you rules." Cristina started softly, "She gave you rules and you have to follow them."

Clenching his jaw, he gave her a soft nod. "Okay."

Pressing her lips together for a moment, Cristina gathered her thoughts. She evened out her tone and she looked up to meet his gaze. She had to look into his eyes. He had to understand everything she was saying. "When you left me on our wedding day, you didn't leave _me._ That's what you thought then. It's what I know now."

"Cristina –"

"I'm speaking." She interrupted him, "So you left. You said that if you loved me that you wouldn't be waiting for me and all that stuff. You said you'd let me go. And maybe…maybe, I wasn't me then. But I'm me now. I'm me and I know what I want." Her eyes traced to his expectantly as if he may be able to decipher exactly what it was that she was saying.

Burke was silent as he pondered her words. He knew what he wanted her to be saying. He hoped what he thought he had heard was what he wanted it to be, but with Cristina he could never be sure. Not when it came to what she wanted.

He'd learned his lesson from that the hard way.

"You can speak now." Annoyance rang clear in her voice.

"I will…as soon as I figure out exactly what it is that you're trying to say." He answered honestly with a wry grin on his face. Watching her slowly, he advanced towards her. "I turned in my resignation." He mumbled quietly.

"I know." Her confidence wavered for the first time as he neared her. She wanted nothing more than to lean into him. She wanted to know that he wanted this too.

That he needed it.

"I've been looking at offers." He continued, "I haven't accepted anything yet. I haven't been able to."

"Why?" She asked softly, knowing what she wanted his answer to be. Hugging her arms around herself she looked up to him.

"I don't want to leave; I don't want to be that far away from you. I know that it's what you need, though. I know that you shouldn't have to see me at work; I know that you shouldn't have to hear the rumors. And for once, I want to do what you need me to." His body was inches from hers, "But if you're saying what I think you're saying; if you're saying what I want you to be saying…" His voice trailed off.

"You don't need to accept an offer." She finished his sentence. "I don't need you to leave. What I need you to do is listen to me. I need you to be ask me what I think before you just do something. I need you to argue with me instead of walking away." Frustration started to seep into her voice, "And don't make the decision to just end our relationship because it's what you _think_ is best. Because you've done it twice and I'm starting to look a little desperate."

A smile spread across Burke's face and he reached out to her. He was surprised when she stepped back. His eyebrows raised in question as he studied her, "Am I misunderstanding?"

"No. You're not." She answered shortly, "But we're going at my pace this time."

"Okay, I can do that." He nodded confidently.

"Good. Now leave." She knew that he was going to get mixed signals, but she was testing him. She was testing the waters again. She wasn't going to be hurt again.

"You don't want me to—" He paused for a moment, "You want me to leave." He echoed her words.

"Yes."

"Okay. I'm leaving. Should I call you?"

It took a great deal of restraint for her not to laugh at his spastic movements as he made his way to the door, "No. Tomorrow you can buy me coffee on your way to work. Then after you speak with Dr. Webber and get your job back, maybe I'll let you buy me another cup of coffee if I'm feeling generous."

"Coffee in the morning."

"You're not leaving." She feigned annoyance. His childlike excitement made it hard for her to push him away, but she had to be careful this time.

Burke pulled open the door to the apartment and glanced back at her with hopeful eyes. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but it was not what she wanted. Closing the door softly behind himself a grin plastered itself across his face.

The ache that had resided in his heart not even a full hour ago had dissipated and it was replaced by palpitations. He couldn't help but feel as if there was progress being made despite the fact that they were still sleeping in separate locations.

Their wounds were starting to heal.


	14. Chapter 14

Coffee.

It was just coffee. It was a hot caffeinated beverage made from ground coffee beans and water. It carried no connotations, no hopes, no dreams and certainly no implications of a relationship.

More so, she wanted him to bring her coffee. She had given him implicit instructions to do so.

Burke wrung his hands nervously as he approached the coffee cart. He'd been given a second chance. He had a chance to do things the right way, to make things better- to heal their wounds. His stomach churned with insecurity as he saw the coffee cart come into view.

The emotions that stirred within him now were a stark contrast to what he felt only a few months ago. He wanted to be sure again. He wanted to know that he was doing the right thing. He wanted to know that this would win Cristina back.

He stepped closer to the counter. It was just coffee. He kept repeating the phrase over and over in his head, trying to remind himself. This was her pace. This was her idea. This was what she wanted. She wanted him to bring her coffee.

As the strong scent of the coffee overwhelmed him, he sighed and stepped away from the cart.

It was never just coffee with them. Coffee carried connotations of forbidden sex in an on-call room and an unwanted pregnancy. Coffee brought tragedy and reunion and hidden apartments, gunshot wounds and silent treatment. Coffee was symbolic.

It would never be just coffee.

Burke walked away from the coffee cart and towards the surgical unit. He needed to talk to her. He needed to see her. He only hoped that his inability to commit to buying her a cup of coffee that was merely a cup of coffee and nothing more wouldn't ruin his chances.

Spotting her by the board, he brushed by her and took hold of her elbow. Gently, he guided her away from the board and around the corner to the stairwell.

Looking to his empty hands expectantly with a cool gaze, she trailed up his body to his chest. "Where's the coffee?"

"I couldn't do it." He answered evenly, "I couldn't do it, and I won't just buy you a cup of coffee like it doesn't mean anything."

She watched him closely. She'd never seen Burke like this before- nervous and visibly shaken. "Why does it have to mean something? Why can't it just be a cup of coffee?"

"Because it has meaning. It wasn't just coffee when I gave you a cup the first time, and it wouldn't be just coffee now. I can't do that, Cristina. I want…to make you happy. I want to make this work, I want to do everything you say. I want to go at your pace. But I just can't buy you a cup of coffee and act like there isn't a story behind it. Act like we don't have a past." He eyes shifted nervously up and down her face, trying to get a read on her expression.

Cristina didn't want to deny their past either. She didn't want to deny him those memories. She didn't expect to bring her a cup of coffee without the heavy connotations that one cup could carry between them.

She just didn't know how to tell him that without unnecessarily getting his hopes up. The last thing that she wanted or needed to do is to give him false hope that things would progress faster than she wanted them too.

"We'll get coffee together. This afternoon, and I'll buy my own cup. It's not a date. It's just two people. Who aren't friends. And aren't dating. Buying coffee."

"Colleagues." He nodded gently, trying to withhold a smile.

"Whatever." She answered, and brushed past him. Her heart fluttered when their arms brushed and she rolled her eyes. She hated him for turning her into such a damn girl so many months ago. She hated how she had a physiologic reaction to him every time he was in the room.

"I'll see you this afternoon, Dr. Yang."

A grin spread across his lips as he started up the stairs. They'd just done something they never did in their previous attempt at a relationship.

They'd communicated and compromised.

He wanted to believe that the nerves that had manifested themselves would dissipate by the time their coffee date arrived, but he already felt them intensifying.

Bringing her coffee, no matter how strong the implication, was nothing compared to talking. Burke knew that inevitably there would be talking and arguing, and he couldn't help but feel that perhaps this coffee date was going to set the stage for the first argument that had not yet occurred.

Perhaps he should've just brought her a cup of coffee, instead.


	15. Chapter 15

Cristina took a long drink of her beer and sat it back on the coffee table in front of her. The setting sun cast a warm orange glow through her living room making it look warmer than it really was. She hugged herself as she thought about the look that was on his face when she didn't show up for coffee.

The disappointment was one thing, she had expected it. But she hadn't expected to see that much pain in his eyes. She watched him for at least twenty minutes from the window as he paced and waited for her.

A part of her wanted to go to him then, to have coffee with him. A greater part of her was afraid of being hurt, afraid of moving forward, afraid to give him another chance. She wasn't ready to let her walls down again.

Even if trying over was on her terms.

The sound the lock on her front door click drew her back from her silent reverie and she saw him push the door open. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, and then turned back to the living room floor.

Burke watched her for a moment, his eyes trailing softly up and down her face. She looked sad. He closed the door softly and then pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator before he settled on the couch next to her. He placed the second beer in front of her after twisting the cap off of it, "I waited for you."

"I know."

He drew a long drink from his own bottle, "Why didn't you come?"

"I was scared." Her voice was barely a whisper. She reached out for the beer, her fingers tracing against the raised emblem on the label. "I _am_ scared."

Her admission caught him off guard. Cristina Yang never admitted to her weaknesses. Not to anybody, least of all him. "That's my fault."

"Yes."

"Is there a way that I can make it better?" He wanted to reach out and touch her, to hold her in his arms. "I can promise-"

"Don't make promises." She cut him off. "Your promises don't mean anything to me anymore."

Her words stung. He was supposed to be a man of his word, an honest man. Preston Burke was known for being a man of his word. He wanted her to believe his word. He wanted her to let him make promises so that he could keep them.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. She couldn't do it anymore. She had given it up before they would even try. She wasn't ready to be hurt again.

"No," He shook his head. "Tell me what I need to do. I'll do whatever you want me to do, Cristina. You can't give this up. Not yet. I won't accept it."

"You don't have a say in this." Her answer was curt as she turned her eyes up to meet his.

Without hesitation, he reached out to her and cupped her face in his hand. When she didn't pull away, he leaned in and brushed his lips softly against hers at first, then deeper. His other arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her closer.

The kiss had caught her off guard. She wanted to fight it, wanted to pull away from him. She laid a hand softly against his chest to push him away, but failed miserably. As they kissed, she could feel his heart beating harder against the palm of her hand.

His heart beat for her.

For too many moments, they kissed. Their hands wandered softly, and his lips left a trail of kisses from her lips to her neck to her shoulder. His hands slid just under the hem of her shirt and gently massaged her soft skin hidden there.

He was intoxicating. His lips and his hands made it impossible for her to think, impossible for her to be rational, impossible to do anything but kiss him back. She traced agonizing patterns at the nape of his neck as his mouth explored her skin. "Burke…"

"Mmm." Was his only response as he kissed his way back up her neck to her lips. Their lips met again and this time it was her that pulled him closer. Burke knew that he couldn't take this much farther, couldn't let it get much farther because neither would be able to stop. He slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders and softly pushed her away from him. "We should stop." His voice was breathless as he searched her eyes.

Cristina didn't want to stop. She wasn't thinking, wasn't wondering, wasn't trying to figure out what she should do. She was _feeling._ His skin was warm, his breath burning hot. His eyes were intense and when he was touching her she didn't have doubts. "I don't want to stop."

She pushed him back onto the couch and she crawled up his body. She dragged her fingernails down the front of his t-shirt to the hem and tugged it up over his head. Once she dropped it to the floor, she bent over to press their lips together once more.

Their kisses were hot and passionate, full of the emotions that both had bottled for much too long. Their fingers wandered over buttons and zippers, working them open. Their bodies ached for each other. They _needed_ each other.

"You're sure?" Burke murmured against her lips.

Cristina said nothing, but pulled away from him. She moved her hands behind her back and released the clasp of her bra. Slowly, she slid it down her arms as she watched him with a darkened gaze. She knew that this wasn't going to solve her problems. She knew that it wasn't going to make trusting him come easier. She knew that it wasn't going to do anything but complicate things.

His hands slid slowly up her abdomen to her chest and she crushed her lips against his.

She would have time for regrets later.


	16. Chapter 16

Burke stirred from his deep sleep , something tickling his face. He shifted slightly and opened his eyes to find Cristina's body pressed against his, her dark curls brushing against his face. He smiled to himself when he realized that last night was not a figment of his imagination. He buried his face against her curls, taking her in.

He wasn't sure what would happen when she woke up, but he wasn't ready to let her go. He wasn't sure what he could do to prove to her that he wasn't going to hurt her again. He wasn't sure how he could prove to her that he wasn't going to walk away again.

Ideas lingered in his mind as to what he could do, but he pushed them away thinking that they were all too fast for her. She wanted to creep along, pretend as if they didn't have a history. He wanted to wake every morning with her in his arms.

"I can hear you thinking." Her voice interrupted his overwhelming thoughts. She smiled slightly when she felt him jump in surprise.

"You're awake?" He asked, surprised that she wasn't moving.

She was quiet, considering how she could tell him that she'd been up for hours. Initially, she thought that she would regret sleeping with him. She was sure that it would only complicate things and make it harder to push him away. As she lay in his arms, however, it seemed easier to think. There wasn't any question about how she felt about him.

"Now you're the one thinking." He smirked. He moved his hand up and down her arm softly and brushed kisses against her forehead.

"I think I'm entitled." She loathed the way that her body responded to his touch. Even if she wanted to hate him, her senses wouldn't let her. He was overwhelming, and his touch- it was all something she didn't want to live without.

"Tell me what you're thinking about." He knew that it was a long shot, trying to get her to disclose her feelings, but it was worth a shot nonetheless.

"Weddings."

Regret replaced the euphoria he'd been feeling and his grip on her loosened a bit. He felt as if they would never be able to move past the pain that he'd caused her. He didn't want her to forget, didn't expect her to forget. He just wanted her to forgive him.

"Cristina-" He started softly, but he was interrupted by her finger over his lips.

"I didn't want the frivolous wedding." She mumbled softly, "I didn't want the white dress, the flowers, and the family. The honeymoon…well, I got used to the idea of that, even if it did mean two weeks away from the hospital. I still don't want the frivolous wedding, but I was going to like being married. I _wanted_ to be married."

Her revelation knocked the wind out of him and he clenched his jaw. If only he'd let her talk, if he hadn't of been so hard on her, they wouldn't be in this place now. They would be enjoying life as newlyweds. "Cristina, I'm sorry." He finally uttered, "I know that it's just words, and I know that it doesn't change anything, but I don't know what else I can do."

"You could marry me."

Burke's brow furrowed and he raised his eyes to hers. There was a nearly imperceptible smirk on her face and he felt a smile playing on his own. "I thought that…"

"We can do it the way I wanted to. No dresses, no flowers, no family. Just me and you at city hall." Her gaze was intense as she searched him. She knew that her suggestion would be a long shot, that it was even a little out of left field, but she was testing him.

If he wanted to prove to her that he wouldn't leave her again, he would do it.

Burke reached forward to brush a curl from her face, "We can't do that. Not yet."

"Why not? You didn't marry me because you said that I wasn't your Cristina, that if you loved me for who I was that you'd let me go. I'm me and I'm telling you what I want."

He could help but smile widely. It seemed as if fate had granted him a second chance. "When?"

"Whenever. I don't care. Just do it on a Friday so that we can have a honeymoon after the weekend. Two weeks is way too much. Two days should be plenty. And I don't want to miss out on any good surgeries because I'm off in Hawaii or something." She shrugged.

Her indifferent attitude only caused him to grin wider. She could act like it wasn't a big deal, but he could see a hint of excitement in her eyes. "We could go today. Our marriage license was good for a year."

"You still have it?" She asked softly, taken aback by the revelation.

"I do."

"Fine." She shrugged, "Whatever. We can go after I get off work, I guess."

Burke found himself wanting to go now, but he would be patient and honor her wishes to do it after work. He had waited months for her to open up and let him back in. He had waited for months just for a chance to try over again.

A few more hours to pick up where they had left off, certainly wouldn't hurt them.


	17. Epilogue

It rained on their wedding day.

There was no fanfare, no flowers and no family. The judge was grumpy and the bride was late for her own wedding, trying to scrub in on one last procedure beforehand.

It was her way of thinking it through and making sure that she wanted it.

Cristina wore a dress, just because she knew it would make him happy. It wasn't white, but red. It wasn't ornate, just simple chiffon over simple silk that clung to her body soaked with rain. Her hair wasn't laden with jewels and clips, rather it hung in soaking wet tendrils, cascading down her shoulders.

Burke wore a simple button up shirt, though it took restraint to not wear at least a suit. He shifted nervously in front of the judge that he had pleaded with just to wait a little while longer. When she appeared at the back of the room, drenched in rain and looking exhausted and cold he felt relief tear through his body.

The ceremony was simple. There were no musical offerings by a string quartet and no elaborate sonnets read attesting to the power of love. When Burke read his vows, he promised to love and cherish her until death would do them part.

His original vows were legendary, but as he read over them before the ceremony, he realized that they were missing something. He promised himself to her, told her how much he loved her, but he didn't promise to be with her forever. He didn't promise that he would never leave her and in all of the pain and confusion of the past months, it was important for her to know that now.

She softly repeated the vows as the justice read them off. Her eyes never left his and she never once felt like she was doing the wrong thing.

When they exchanged rings, she slipped a simple gold band onto his finger. Burke slipped a necklace around her neck that had a matching band on it, citing that he knew that she didn't like to wear rings.

As the ceremony ended, the Justice told Burke to kiss his wife and to make it quick because he wanted to go home.

They kissed until they were breathless.

Their honeymoon was a weekend plus one day spent in a resort in Sonoma because Burke insisted on leaving Seattle. They never left the room and they never stopped rediscovering each other. They talked about their past and they spoke of their future.

Burke promised that he would always take into account what she wanted and Cristina promised to try to tell him what she was thinking at least a quarter of the time.

But she couldn't make any guarantees.

On what should've been their first anniversary, she didn't talk to him at all that day. Instead, she worked and pushed him away and failed to explain why it was that she was angry.

But he knew, and he gave her the space that she needed, no matter how much he hated seeing her hurting.

When all was said and done, the wounds from him walking away were still there. They still ached from time to time. It marred their relationship, causing the same discontinuity that a surgical scar would leave on a perfect abdomen. Like any scar, it would take time for it to fade. It would take time for those small aches and pains to dissipate completely.

And they had all the time in the world.


End file.
